Page 3 of Save the Dance

“When you put it like that, I don’t see how Ms. Charm could turn you down. You think she’d let you write the entire article?” Vanessa drummed her fingers on her chair’s armrests. “Do you know how jelly I’ll be if she does?”

She did. For one glorious split-second, Tara envisioned a teaser on the cover of the next edition, a two-page article inside with her name prominently featured. The story she’d write would be so well-researched and well-written, Ms. Charm would practically beg her for regular contributions. From there, the sky was the limit. Featured articles. A monthly column. Promotions and accolades.

But first, she had to plant her foot on the next rung. She slipped the photos into one of the magazine’s blue binders and tucked it under one arm. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t even have to ask. You’ve got this.”

“When I do, drinks are on me at The Scribe.” Two doors down from the magazine’s headquarters, the watering hole served as the staff’s most popular gathering spot. Tonight, she’d walk into the bar where framed covers of Weddings Today hung over the booths, and everyone would congratulate her on her first big assignment. Thinking of the welcome she’d receive, Tara sighed.

Her visions of grandeur dimmed a bit when Vanessa’s full lips parted. “You know I’d love to, but I can’t. Charlie and I are going to create our wedding registry as soon as I get off work.”

Pretending she didn’t care, Tara nodded. “Some other time, then.”

She turned toward the opening between their desks. A little over two years ago, she’d have traded her eyeteeth for the kind of relationship Vanessa shared with her fiancé. But that was before. Before she’d discovered texts from other girls on her former boyfriend’s phone. Before she’d given up on dreams of white picket fences and had set her sights on something more attainable. Climb the ladder of success, that was her new goal. Landing this story was the next step.

She shrugged out of her cardigan and snugged the tail of her blue shirt into the waistband of gray slacks. Her shoulders back, head held high, she marched past the rows of cubicles that held dozens of other junior reporters and interns. The glass-fronted door at the end of the corridor loomed like the entrance to the lion’s den. Which, considering her boss’s mood of late, wasn’t a bad comparison.

Momentary doubt flickered. Tara doused it and kept her feet in motion. At the door, she curled her fingers over sweat-dampened palms and knocked on the jamb.

“Ms. Charm? Do you have a minute?”

The ultra-thin woman in a standard-issue, shabby-chic black suit looked up from photographs paper-clipped to articles written by senior staffers. She removed a pair of reading glasses—today’s frames were bright red—and pinched her nose. “Come in, Tara. Do you have those blurbs finished for the composite page?” The nasal tones of a Long Island native whipped through the air. “I need them by Friday.”

“I just have to add Kate Steven’s, and I’ll be done with them. But I spotted something very interesting in the photos from her wedding.”

“Yes.” Regina Charm’s inflection didn’t rise a bit.

Tara stepped forward, her pulse racing. This was her big chance. It could be months—years, even—before another opportunity like this one came along. She had to grab the editor’s attention.

“Yes,” she said firmly. “As you know, Kate is the spokesmodel for the Donna Marsha line.” The designer was the second-most popular in the industry. Tara paused for effect. “But for her own wedding, Kate chose a Sophie Olsen!” Stepping forward, she slid the printed image onto her boss’s desk. “I want to probe deeper into that, find out why Kate would make such a statement.”

“Something about this has your reporter’s nose twitching?” Her thin lips curving into a barely amused smile, Regina twirled her glasses by one stem.

“It does.” She nodded.

“Not bad.”

Her heart leaped. These days, “not bad” was considered high praise on the floor where her boss rarely had a kind word to say about anything. She crossed her fingers. This was it, the moment of truth. Had she won the editor over?

“But it’s not for us.” Regina folded her reading glasses and set them aside. “Our subscribers aren’t interested in a quarrel between the creatives and their faces. Our readers are women who are planning their weddings or hope to be soon. They want to know what’s hot in next season’s gowns. Is strapless on its way out? Are empire waistlines making a comeback? Which fabrics are popular right now? They expect us to answer those questions for them and leave spats like this one to the gossip rags.”

“But I thought …” Tara’s heart sank straight down to her toes while heat climbed the back of her neck.

“I know what you thought. But no.” Regina aimed a nail the same color as her glasses at the picture. “That is not for us. You’ve been with us for two years. I’d think you’d know that by now.”

“Yes, ma’am. Sorry to have bothered you.” Not only was Kate’s story not Tara’s big break, Regina’s subtle jab told her she’d better bring her focus more in line with Weddings Today or start looking for another job. Prepared to make as gracious a retreat as possible under the circumstances, she backed away from the desk.

“On the other hand …”

At the sound of her boss’s voice, Tara’s retreat halted. What now?

“I do admire your attention to detail. Even some of the more senior reporters might have missed the dress.” Tension in the room mounted while Regina treated Tara to an intense study. At last, her boss tapped the folded pair of glasses against her desktop and nodded. “Close the door and take a seat.”

Her emotions bouncing like a yo-yo at the end of a string, Tara gulped. Though she couldn’t recall the last time something good had come out of a private chat with the Executive Editor, Regina had just handed her a compliment. Of sorts.

“What can I do for you, Ms. Charm?” she asked, deliberately adopting a bland tone.

“I’m sure you’re aware that we’re in the middle of our biannual review of the most popular wedding sites throughout the U.S. The town that receives the highest marks will be on the cover of our August edition, with a four-page spread inside.”

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